


Rookie Year

by annalore



Series: A Football Life: Geno Smith [1]
Category: National Football League RPF
Genre: 2013, American Football, Bitterness, M/M, New York Jets, Optimism, Snow, Surgery, glaring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 08:23:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annalore/pseuds/annalore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geno will always remember his first year in the NFL as the year he met Mark Sanchez.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rookie Year

**Author's Note:**

> I've never actually seen one of these "A Football Life" documentaries. Ignore that.

**Summer**

The first time they met, Geno was convinced that Sanchez hated him.

Matt Simms was quick to inform him that this was probably because Sanchez did, in fact, hate him.  Sanchez hated everyone, especially if that someone was another Jets quarterback, especially after what had happened with Tebow the year before.

But Matt said it with a smile, brushing it off as unreasonable, and they became friends quickly.  Soon he was helping Matt move out of his parents’ place and they were renting a house together, a cute little place not too far from the training center.

He understood when he came in that he would have to compete for his spot, but he hadn’t expected it to be like this.  He put in the work, reps on the field, time in the weight room, studying plays until his head swam.  But he did it all with Mark Sanchez’s poisonous glare following him wherever he went.

As they went through the preseason, he was convinced that he didn’t even have a chance.  He was hanging on by a thread, and Sanchez was starting to look more and more smug.  Then Sanchez went down.

By opening day, Geno was starting and Sanchez was telling anyone who would listen that he didn’t deserve the shot.  Deep down, he worried that he didn’t, even when Matt congratulated him and told him he’d do well.

When he took the field, all he could see was Sanchez staring at him from the sideline, and he wanted to prove himself.

  

**Fall**

He held Mark’s hand as they waited for the orderlies to come wheel him off to the operating room.

He had no time to spare, but he’d flown down to Tampa anyway.  Matt had insisted on coming with him, and he was sitting in the waiting room now, headphones in his ears and a cup of lukewarm coffee in his hands.  Geno could still see the look of pity in Matt’s eyes.

Mark wouldn’t talk to him.  He’d held out against the surgery for as long as he could, held out hope that he could play and salvage his starting job.  But Geno was starting to falter, and maybe Mark thought he had less to lose now.  Mark was angry about that, angry at the time he’d wasted.  Angry at the world.

Geno had seen it in his eyes every time he’d come out to the sidelines to conference with the quarterbacks coach.  Mark gave advice, said the appropriate encouraging word in the presence of others.  But lurking in the background, there was the thought.  _You’re not better than me_.  And maybe he wasn’t, but how was that his fault?

The doctor came in, and Geno let go of Mark’s hand.  They exchanged a last look, and Geno thought Mark would finally say something.  But he just looked away, misery etched on his features.

Hours later, with the surgery over and successful, Geno was sitting by Mark’s bed again.  Mark woke up from the anesthesia slowly.  He looked over, groggy and disoriented.  He blinked when he saw Geno there and let his eyes drift shut again.  But as pain creased his features, tightened his jaw, he squeezed Geno’s hand.

“You’d better go,” Mark said roughly.

Unfortunately, he was right.  Geno was pushing it already if he wanted to make his flight on time.  He stood with a sigh.  Before he left, he brushed Mark’s curls back, leaned in and kissed his forehead.  Mark smiled, and looked peaceful.

 

**Winter**

They kissed in the snow.

Matt had looked at him with a tolerant sort of amusement when he’d stood in the yard of their little house in the early hours of the morning, staring up at the sky in wonder at the soft, wet flakes that were drifting slowly to the ground.  Matt was from here; he didn’t understand.

He’d driven straight over to Mark’s place, dragged him out of bed and out into what was quickly becoming a storm.  The world was turning white around them, and Geno just loved it.  It made him the kind of happy that couldn’t be contained in one body, and he needed someone to share it with.

Mark was anything but tolerant, looking down his aquiline nose at Geno’s parka and mittens, his curls plastered to his forehead, hair salt and pepper with snow.  He grumbled – he was tired, the cold made his shoulder ache – but Geno just smiled.  It was like they were alone in the world out here.  Mark shivered.  He’d thrown on some sweatpants and a Jets fleece over his pajamas, and it was inadequate to the weather.

Geno stepped close to Mark, put his hands on Mark’s arms.  Mark looked down at the snowman mittens Geno’s mom had sent him, then back up into Geno’s eyes.  Geno blushed, but Mark didn’t say anything.  He leaned in slowly, his head angling in, until their lips were just barely touching.  Mark’s skin was cold, his touch feather light like the brush of a snowflake, his breath a puff of warm air on Geno’s cheek.  He looked up at Mark, a question in his eyes, but Mark just kissed him again, another feather touch.

They went inside after that.  Mark crawled back into bed, and Geno struggled to make himself a coffee with the fancy espresso machine.  He curled up on the sofa, drank his coffee, and watched TV on Mark’s giant flat screen while he waited for the storm to pass.

He’d always thought there was magic in the snow.

 

**Spring**

The season was long over and the draft had come and gone, but the Jets still hadn’t gotten rid of Sanchez.

Geno spent half his time worrying about Mark’s future and the other half worrying about his own.  Every day, it seemed like a new rumor started making the rounds, and it made him sick to think about it.  Mark had banned him from watching SportsCenter, but he couldn’t resist flipping to it while Mark dozed on the sofa next to him, exhausted from physical therapy.  They weren’t talking about football, but Geno watched anxiously.  It was bound to come up, or at least appear on the news ticker.

When Mark woke up, he glanced at the TV irritably and gestured for the remote.  Geno handed it over sheepishly and waited for his scolding.  Mark turned the TV off, and then just looked at him.  Geno looked away first.  He heard Mark shifting next to him, and then felt Mark’s arms around his waist.  Mark held him close, pressed kisses to the back of his neck.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Mark asked, his cheek pressed to Geno’s shoulder.

“Because I…” Geno started, but the words got stuck in his threat.  Because he was afraid that if Mark went, he’d never see him again.  Because he was afraid that if he mentioned it, he’d lose him that much sooner.  And he was afraid that he might lose his job, too, and he’d have to go through it without Mark.

“You’ll visit me, won’t you?” Mark asked.  “Wherever…”

Geno pulled away and turned to look at Mark.  His eyes were dark with uncertainty, and he was holding his breath, waiting for a response.  Geno reached out and grabbed Mark’s hand.  “I would visit you in hell,” he said softly.  He couldn’t help the reflexive flush of his cheeks.

Mark smiled in response, something shy and vulnerable in his expression.  “Even if hell is in Jacksonville?” he asked.

“Even then,” Geno agreed.

Mark leaned in and kissed him, soft, drowning kisses that made Geno forget the world around him.  They stretched out on the sofa, bodies pressed together.  Mark’s arms were a comforting weight around his waist, his body warm in the cool air conditioning. 

They took their time, trading kisses and soft touches.  After a while, Geno went for the hem of Mark’s shirt, slid his hand underneath.  Mark broke their kiss.  Geno raised his head to see Mark shake his head.  “Later,” he said.

Geno nodded.  They kissed once more, then Geno tucked his head against Mark’s chest, content to wait.


End file.
